


...Plus One

by MysteriouS24



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6621349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriouS24/pseuds/MysteriouS24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this sequel to "Two Plus Two", Kelley documents her journey through pregnancy, labor and delivery</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Funhouse

I had already come to the conclusion long ago that we were crazy. I thought that years ago, after I pinned Hope against the wall of the empty hotel corridor and kissed her for the first time. I knew it later when I fell in love with her, and subsequently married her. When the twins were on their way, I thought for sure we had topped the insanity charts but when, on their first birthday, I had come to the realization that I wanted to carry and deliver another child, the crazy train derailed. 

Did we function our best in chaos? It was beginning to seem that way. Nothing had ever been easy or straightforward for us. We had fallen in love when we shouldn’t have, had our hearts broken and mended, come together and fallen apart before finally working through the bullshit and the pride. Allowing ourselves to grow as individuals and as a couple was the best thing we had done. Then the twins came with their extremely dramatic entrance into the world, courtesy of Hope’s refusal to yield to circumstance and Pinoe’s ability to stay calm during crisis. Not to mention my knack for falling down at the worst time possible. Still, the boys made their way to us and all we suffered was a few destroyed blankets and my broken leg. 

Watching them grow up was the most surreal experience I’d had. They had been helpless newborns, unable to hold their heads up and I blinked and they were running around, eating dog food and beating the hell out of each other. I couldn’t be more proud. Yet, there was a void. A very small, but ever-present pit of sadness in my stomach each time Hope brought one of them to her breast to nurse. It was buried under layers of other emotion, so much so that it took me the course of a year to put my finger on what I wanted. It was simple.

I wanted to have a baby.

I had expected Hope to react by laughing hysterically at the notion of another child, to scold me for making such a ridiculous joke. My wife was always one to surprise me, though, so when she readily agreed, I was taken aback. The pattern of “things never being easy for Kell and Hope” continued onward, however, seeing as neither of us had a penis and therefore we were unable to create offspring of our own, regardless of how often we tried. 

Our previous sperm donor was anonymous, carefully chosen from a bank but we had used the last of his samples when the twins were conceived. He had the qualities we were searching for at the time, but in all honesty, I was relieved to know that he wasn’t an option. I wanted my baby to look like Hope. She, however, didn’t agree.

“C’mon Kelley! You and I both know that there’s more to someone than their looks. You’re very good looking but you’d be nothing if you were a brainless, vapid person.” She rolled her eyes. Clearly, to her, the conversation was over. 

“This is no time for your SAT prep vocabulary words, Solo. This is our future kid! I want him or her to look like us. There’s almost no chance the kid would be an idiot with both of us as parents. I want someone athletic, who looks like you, preferably with your italian heritage.” She clenched her jaw and looked away from me. Great. I had triggered what I had named Stubborn Solo. There would be no reaching her now. She had her mind made up; brains over appearance. I couldn’t blame her for her preference; it didn’t mean I liked it. 

“I’m just saying that looks and heritage shouldn’t be our first concern,” Hope pointed out. Logic was always her go-to when we had a disagreement and it was hard for me to convince her that sometimes making a decision based on emotion was okay. 

“Of course not, but you know as well as I do that the men at the facility are thoroughly screened for disease, family history and intelligence. It’s not impossible to think we could find a man with all the traits we want.” I decided the best way to battle her logic was with more logic. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me, but I didn’t back down. I met her gaze with one of my own.

“Okay, let’s look at what they have, then.” A small victory for me, but a victory nonetheless. I smiled and kissed her cheek. 

“Thank you for meeting me halfway,” I said sincerely, coaxing a smile from her.

“Always,” She said softly before she kissed me softly. 

“Mama!” One of the boys’ voices cracked through the baby monitor.

“I’ll get him,” Hope offered and as she walked away, I wondered how life would look with another baby in the house. 

The boys had brought so much to us that we had never considered. Of course, the love between the four of us was immeasurable. They had brought us together in areas we hadn’t even known we were apart. They taught us how important respite and alone time was and how critical being able to come together as a family again was, as well. They challenged us with their personalities, Henry being more shy and softspoken often looked to us for permission to do something as simple as get a toy out of the toy box; while Peyton was the resident bulldozer and was one to find himself in situations that baffled me. When he was just over a year old, he learned how to climb out of his crib and wound up on a shelf in his closet screaming for help when he couldn’t get down on his own. Henry watched, tears brimming over for his brother while Hope and I worked together to comfort and scold both of them. In short, Peyton was our little daredevil, while Henry was more reserved and empathetic. Both of them were stubborn as hell, which made both of us proud and exasperated at the same time. They didn’t like to accept help for their tasks, like eating, cleaning their toys, stacking blocks, kicking balls and lately, trying to dress themselves. The most common phrases in our house were “No mama!” and “Me do!” We did our best to accommodate. 

It was hard to imagine how a new little person would fit into our family of four. I had fears that I had yet to voice to Hope, lest she change her mind about our decision to have another baby. I was afraid that our new addition would get lost in the chaos, that he or she wouldn’t be as cherished as our boys. That thought scared me the most. I loved Peyton and Henry deeply, and I liked to think that love was infinite but what if I was wrong? What if love was limited and I had given all I was capable of to my friends and my family? Was that even possible? I hoped not with my whole being. 

A few days later, Hope and I found ourselves sitting in the back by the pool watching the boys play with the dogs and enjoying the sun. I had my computer open and in front of us, a list of available sperm donors were listed by impersonal numbers and data about the potential father of our next child. None of the men matched our mixed criteria and I felt sadness eat at my stomach. I was struggling with the idea of our child not looking like Hope. The boys looked like a mix of the both of us, Hope’s angular face with my freckles, both of them had darker green eyes with freckles of dark brown. I adored looking at them, they truly were beautiful, all bias aside. We got stopped each time we took them out by more than one person cooing over how gorgeous they were and they loved the attention. Secretly, I did too and even though Hope acted annoyed, I think she did, too. 

“The most important thing is that we find someone who is healthy and intelligent,” She said softly. I bit my lip, irrational tears stinging the back of my eyes. Of course she was right but I wanted to hold my ground, to not give into my wife but I felt like a kid who wanted strawberry ice cream when all I was offered was chocolate or vanilla; disappointed, weary, tired and fighting the instinct to throw my hands in the air and say fuck it, if I can’t have what I want, I don’t want it. Ice cream was ice cream, in Hope’s logic, our baby was our baby regardless. 

I allowed myself to sit and think about why the features I wanted our child to have were so important to me. After a few minutes, I was able to articulate my train of thought to my partner with faith that she would be receptive to my point of view. 

“Hope, I really feel strongly about my desires for the donor,” she sighed and it stung. “Please hear me out. We have our two boys who look like us. They look like somehow we broke science and made those kids by sheer will. I’ve been anxious about bringing a new baby into the family because I’m scared that he or she somehow won’t fit in. If the baby doesn’t look like us, don’t you think they would grow up feeling a little like the red headed step child?” Hope was silent for a moment and nodded thoughtfully. 

“Those are valid concerns, honestly ones that I’ve had too without taking looks into consideration.” Both of us sat in a comfortable yet thoughtful silence as we watched the boys play, both of them looking absolutely adorable in their sun hats, shorts and sandals. Hope took my hand and squeezed it.

“We’re not in a rush, I guess.” I said. I wanted to fill the silence but I was also being truthful. I had just turned thirty-two and had three years until I hit the “advanced maternal age” milestone; we had time. 

“We’ll find the perfect one, we just need to keep our eyes open. We’ll keep checking.” Her voice was gentle and reassuring and I smiled at her and hoped she couldn’t see the disappointment in my eyes. 

A week later, we were able to wrangle the boys into their carseats to go see Pinoe and Sera for their annual pizza, beer, and sportsball day which was loved by many. With their ridiculous sports package they had for their cable, they would put slips of paper into a bowl and the winner of a game Pinoe would think up would draw a slip; that would be the sport we would spend the day watching. The year prior, we had found ourselves watching a pickleball tournament for most of the day. The year before that was poker, which Hope argued wasn’t a sport but Pinoe held her ground. 

“Whatever, Solo, you think you’d love it because your game face is so on point, you’re just mad that you can never win.” Pinoe had taunted with a grin on her face. Hope couldn’t help but return her friend’s smile and she acquiesced.

“Fine, fine,” she replied, putting her hands up in the air. Pinoe’s words were more than true and proved that night when they had all played poker themselves and Hope lost every hand. The memory brought a smile to my face. 

Once we had arrived and gotten the boys settled with the babysitter in the back room, we made our rounds, greeting old friends and acquaintances alike, answering questions. My cheeks started to cramp from smiling but my worries and anxiety about expanding our family slipped away. 

“Yo, O’Hara, I want you to meet my friend Evan. We met last year after I beat him in a shootout.” Pinoe motioned me over to her side, a drink in one hand. 

“You make it sound like you kicked my ass,” a pleasant voice reached my ears and I shook the man’s hand. When we met eyes, I felt my voice get caught in my throat. It was like looking at a male Hope. His face was angular, handsome, his cheekbones set high and his eyes slanted ever so slightly, but mostly, the color of his eyes caught my attention. I blinked with surprise and composed myself when Pinoe shot me a confused look.

“Kelley O’Hara,” I said. He grinned. 

“Evan Benedetti, pleasure,” He responded readily.

“Italian?” I asked bravely. His grin grew wider and he nodded.

“Irish?” He asked back. He was quick and I found myself laughing and nodding in response.

“Sorry, my wife is Italian so I had to ask,” I said, realizing that my question was probably a little rude. He waved his hand.

“I figured. You married Hope Solo right?” I raised my eyebrow but nodded. 

“Congrats on that and your kids, it’s nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta track down my boyfriend.” He excused himself with a small wave and made his way through the small crowd.

Pinoe whistled lowly. “What was THAT, Kell? You weren’t flirting with my gay buddy were you?” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.

“Nooo, I’m pretty much getting gayer by the year.” She cackled and threw her arm around me. 

“Me too. Me too, kid. I’m glad you could make it.” I nodded, my eyes sweeping the crowd for Evan.

“So what does Evan do for work?” I asked and was pleased that my voice was more casual than usual.

“Oh, he’s some neurologist or something. A doctor.” She took a small drink from her glass.

“That’s cool,” I said. The wheels in my brain were turning slowly. Who said our donor had to be from a bank? So far, Evan was everything we wanted in a donor. Athletic, smart, italian, plus, he looked like Hope which was pretty much all I needed. “How old is he?” My voice was still casual but Pinoe was sharp as a tack.

“He’s thirty four. What is this? Oh my god!” She said with realization crossing her face. “You wanna have a baby! Oh man this means Sera lost her bet! She said Hope would have all the kids but you, you little squirrely thing!” I shushed her and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard her little outburst. 

“Of course I do,” I hissed. “Hope and I were looking at donors and none of them fit our criteria. I want someone that looks like Hope.” I added. Pinoe nodded thoughtfully.

“He does look like Hope but he’s a shitty keeper. He’s an okay midfielder but he’s no Megan Rapinoe,” she said conspiratorially. 

“Who looks like me?” Hope asked, appearing at my side. Her arm slid around my waist and she smiled at me. 

“My friend Dr. Evan Benedetti,” Pinoe barged in before I could answer. “Kelley wants his DNA to make little O’Solo babies or something. I don’t know all the details.” She grinned when I glared at her. Hope blinked with surprise and looked at me. 

“He’s a doctor. He’s athletic and he really does look like you,” I offered meekly. Hope clenched her jaw and closed her eyes.

“He’s a really great guy, Hope.” Pinoe said, softly. “I’m sure he’d be at least interested in talking about it. I could talk to him for you two after the party.” She offered. I perked up and looked at Hope, my eyes pleading.

“Please, Hope, he really does have everything on our checklist. It wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to him,” I wasn’t ashamed of my begging and a small smile tugged on the corners of Hope’s mouth. She nodded.

“Please, Pinoe, I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Hope responded and I grinned. Pinoe threw her arms around Hope.

“Anytime, Solo. I’m glad to hear about the expansion of the O’Solo family.” Hope rolled her eyes at the mention of the last name our fans had given us years before, but the smile didn’t leave her face. 

“Please keep this quiet, Megan, seriously. It’s awkward to ask someone I don’t even know for their body fluids, I don’t need a phone call from my publicist or worse, from Carli asking why there are rumors flying around that I came onto some neurologist at your party.” I chuckled but Hope was serious. 

“Oh shit well with the use of my first name I know it’s serious. Don’t worry, mums the word,” Pinoe winked and pressed the side of her nose with her index finger before she walked away. 

The disappointment that had eaten away at my gut for the past week was gone, replaced by excitement at the prospect of actually finding a donor. I could tell by the look on my wife’s face that she was hesitant yet trying to hold her own excitement at bay. 

Days passed without any word from Pinoe on her talk with Evan about the weird soccer legends wanting his DNA so they could make a baby. I felt the disappointment replace my hopeful optimism as the days turned to night and then morning again but I kept myself busy with my training, the boys and Hope. I refused to let myself get depressed like I had when Hope and I were trying, unsuccessfully, for the boys for over a year and a half. Finding a suitable donor was not even half the battle. 

After I had laid Peyton down in his crib for his mid-morning nap, my cellphone chimed cheerfully, alerting me to a text. I had expected it to be Hope, who had run to the grocery store but when Pinoe’s name popped onto the screen, I felt my stomach jump into my throat.

“Yo, kid, Evan was totally cool with the idea but wants to meet with you and Hope to discuss deets. Can I give him your digits?” I sent a text back as quickly as my fingers would allow me to type.

“Yes! Thank you so much, Pinoe.” My phone chimed less than a minute later.

“My pleasure but if it’s twins, this time I get one.”


	2. The Expected and The Unexpected

Doctors had never been my favorite people in the world to see, at least in the context of getting a check-up. I avoided it as much as I could but I couldn’t convince Hope that I didn’t need to see the reproductive specialist. Before I knew it, I was draped in a paper gown shifting my weight uncomfortably after a rather invasive exam. I shot Hope a look that she acted like she didn’t see as she glanced around the room, her foot bouncing anxiously.

“I wonder what’s taking so long?” She asked and stood, pacing the floor of the small room. My eyes tracked her until I was dizzy.

“Would you sit down?” I barked, more harshly than I had meant to. Hurt danced across her face, mixed with irritation.

“I have to do something. This place brings back too many memories.” She crossed her arms over her chest but her voice was soft. Of course she was having a hard time; I scolded myself for my short sightedness. Hope hadn’t had the easiest time conceiving the boys. It had taken eighteen months and in that time, she had weekly exams, blood draws twice a month and even a few painful procedures before she finally threw her hands in the air and said enough. We decided to try a few more times at home, just the two of us without the drugs and the uncomfortable procedures. A month later, she had gotten her first positive test and the boys followed shortly after. It was hard to believe so much had happened since the last time we had been in the room. The roles had changed, yes, but obviously Hope was still struggling with painful memories.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, but I meant it. I was embarrassed out my outburst. My own nerves and discomfort had gotten the best of me. Her eyes softened and she closed the space between us, taking my hand.

“I know this isn’t comfortable and you hate the doctor but this will help us know what our next steps are, before we even talk with Evan. I’m a planner.” Hope shrugged.

“That’s an understatement,” I chuckled and nudged her playfully with my elbow, successfully coaxing a smile from her. She squeezed my hand reassuringly and we sat in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

It was becoming more real to me, the thought of getting pregnant and having another baby. Hope had taken to pregnancy and motherhood with ease, even during the drama of labor and Pinoe becoming our makeshift midwife, she had done perfectly. She also made it very clear that she would never do it again. If Hope Solo, the woman who had her game face on even when her bones were breaking and her body deteriorating, said ‘no’ to the thought of another pregnancy, who was I to try? It was daunting. She was and always had been tough as nails; I, on the other hand, had always been tough but soft, too. I could hold my own and work through stress and pain but not with the grace that my wife managed. At least I thought so.

I was jarred back into reality when a knock came to the door and our doctor walked in with a smile on her face. Relief washed through me; with Hope, she had always looked tired and concerned. A smile was a good sign. I looked at Hope and she smiled encouragingly.

“Everything looks good on the preliminary testing. Your cycles are regular, you don’t have any health problems and all your hormone levels are fantastic.” The doctor paused and I felt my stomach drop a little. I was sure there would be bad news. “I would suggest, given your age, that we monitor your cycles closely and do intrauterine insemination here for at least three months,” She suggested.

There it was. My stomach flipped and I remembered Hope’s long months of medication and side effects, inseminations and blood draws. The way she would hold back tears and try to be strong when yet another day started with her bleeding. Could I really do this again? Could I put Hope through the constant roller-coaster? Maybe it would be different with Peyton and Henry at home. The house was so empty before, it was as if it was only filled with our combined longing. Now with the little guys, it was bursting at the seams.

I shook my head.

“No, I don’t want to go through all that. I’d rather try at home first and see what happens.” Hope squeezed my hand again and I knew that she had been thinking the same thing. The doctor nodded.

“That’s fine, just keep in mind it may take longer to conceive at home, especially when doing so artificially. Keep track of your cycles and if it’s been longer than six months, make an appointment to come back.” I nodded, grateful that she hadn’t pushed me to go the more clinical route. The only thing we needed was the other half of the DNA.

* * *

The morning of the day we were supposed to meet with Evan to discuss what we were looking for came much earlier than expected. The cries of our two boys called for us through the monitor insistently. It was still dark out and Hope turned on her light, squinting in discomfort. I groaned and rolled over.

“What time is it?” I mumbled. It was moments like those that I was grateful Hope was more of a morning person than I was. I might have actually fallen back asleep through the cries if it wasn’t for her movement. Hope liked to tease that Henry and Peyton would have learned how to scale the crib and go to the kitchen by the time they were three months old if I had been solely responsible for their care.

“It’s three,” She responded, her voice thick with sleep. I groaned again but got out of bed and followed Hope to their room.

“Hi bubs,” She cooed when she opened the door, the light from the hallway spilled into their nursery. Their cries turned to sniffles at the sight of their mama and I watched, my heart melting, as Henry reached his chubby arms out to her.

“Up mama,” He said, and blinked. A tear ran down his face and she wiped it away.

“What do you say?” She asked, tickling under his chin. He ducked his head and chortled.

“Peas,” he responded and bounced, both of his hands gripping the rail of his crib. She scooped him up and pretended to eat him while she walked to the changing table.

“Good morning, big guy,” I cooed at Peyton, realizing just how much I sounded like Hope made me smile. He smiled at me, two of his new teeth showed proudly in his mouth.

“Mama!” He yelled and jumped just like his brother had. I picked him up, talking nonsense words to him about how big he was. His chunky arms wrapped around my neck and he rested his head on my shoulder. I could feel his tiny fingers had already made their way to my hair and he played with the ends.

“It sounds like they’re up for the day,” Hope said chipperly. That’s what I had been afraid of. Their sleep schedule had been a bit off since they had started teething but no one could force a toddler to sleep when they didn’t want to. “Trade?” She asked, holding a newly diapered Henry out to me. He giggled and kicked his feet.

That was our routine, every morning. One of us would diaper them, then we’d all trek downstairs for breakfast. Henry had different ideas, however, when he very suddenly vomited on the floor, still in Hope’s hands. I sighed.

“Uh oh,” Henry said and then started to cry again. The rest of the morning was a flurry of activity. Our first priority was to separate them; one teething and sick toddler was bad enough but two was worse. The damage was done already though and it wasn’t until nine that morning that Hope and I finally had a moment to rest. They both had tylenol and went down after what felt like hours of rocking them, walking the halls with them and trying to shove pedialyte down their faces.

Hope stripped her pajamas off and climbed into a shower as I collapsed on the bed, watching her sway into the en suite and wishing I had the energy to follow her in for a little morning fun. I closed my eyes and sighed, praying that I would be able to catch fifteen minutes of sleep.

I woke suddenly, unsure of how much time had passed to find Hope straddling my hips on the bed. I swallowed hard and she smiled as innocently as possible in her nakedness, her damp hair falling around her shoulders.

“Do you have any barf, snot, or other bodily baby fluids on you?” She asked matter of factly. I snorted and ran my hands up her sides, shaking my head.

“I was spared in the battle of the barf,” I said and she smiled.

“Sexier words have never been spoken to me,” she purred and leaned over to kiss my neck. I followed the curve of her back with my fingers, happy that my short nap had recharged me enough to attempt to capture a moment with my wife. Her lips found mine insistently, erasing my memories of that morning with ease.

Hope’s hands snaked up my shirt and I arched my back just as the doorbell sounded and we both groaned simultaneously.

“Who is it?” She asked and I could tell she was hoping we could ignore it.

“Evan, I totally forgot he was coming by this morning to talk.” She climbed off me and made her way to the closet to get dressed.

“Rain check, O’Hara, you’re not getting off the hook,” Hope grinned over her shoulder at me.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I mumbled to myself.


	3. Not Meant To Be

The meeting with Evan had gone very well once the initial awkwardness had passed. Evan was charming, sharp and witty; he won Hope over in a surprisingly short amount of time. By the end of the meeting, he promised to be in touch after his lawyer wrote up some papers for the three of us to sign, as long as we were agreeable for him to father our newest addition. It seemed exceedingly surreal that things were coming together so quickly, but I wasn't about to question it; I was getting what I wanted, Hope was getting what she wanted...or so I hoped. 

I couldn’t help but feel that she may be holding back her true feelings about adding another child to the family. It was very possible that I was overthinking but just as possible that she was keeping silent. Maybe she hoped it would take time like it had with her. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what she had or hadn’t done that made me anxious, but something didn’t feel right. 

I didn’t have much time to think on it, however, since the boys’ had caught a cold and were teething at the same time. 

A week passed, filled with fevers, baby Tylenol and sleepless nights for the whole family. Hope and I fell into bed every night exhausted only to be woken every few hours by our sick babies. Day eight dawned brightly. For the first time, the cries of Peyton and Henry didn't wake us, instead, Hope's arms sliding around me roused me and I snuggled gratefully back into her warm body.

“I don't hear a peep from them,” I said, my voice still thick with sleep. Hope hummed and nuzzled into my neck.

“Don't curse us,” she groaned and I giggled when her breath tickled my neck.

“It's so strange to me that this time next year, we could have another baby,” I mused. I felt her lips brush the back of my neck and she chuckled.

“Don't curse us,” Hope said again and I rolled in her arms, slapping her hands away from me playfully. Her words stung minutely, even though she was teasing. I hoped.

“You don't mean that,” I said. She smiled mischievously.

“I don't. But it was funny,” she laughed and I couldn't help but join in, the sting of her jest melted away. “Have I ever told you that you're gorgeous in the morning?” Hope asked suddenly.

“Ew gross, Solo, it's too early for that fluffy shit,” I scrunched my nose. In one fast movement, she grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back into the bed, her face inches from mine. My eyes flashed down to her lips and back up to meet her gaze. I swallowed. Her head tilted, a small smirk on her face as she leaned closer to me.

“Is it too early for this?” She whispered, taking one had off my shoulder only to place it hard between my legs. I shook my head, heat igniting my core. “I didn't think so.”

* * *

Our hope for a good morning was dashed when Henry woke up an hour later, screaming like someone was killing him. I rushed into the nursery, concerned. I had never heard him make anything close to that sound and the previous night, he had seemed to be on the mend and in good spirits. Hope followed closely behind, pulling her tee over her head as we went. Fortunately, we had been able to finish the first task of the morning, quite well, I might add. But as soon as my head hit the pillow next to Hope, the screaming had started.

Henry's cries didn't cease when he saw me; in fact he cried harder. Convinced he was hurt in some way, I pulled him out of his crib and stripped him down, searching for something, anything, that could explain my baby's distress. I came up with nothing. He wasn't feverish, he had no cuts, no strands of hair tied around his tiny toes, not even diaper rash. Hope watched with Peyton in her arms, the little boy sniffled and hiccuped occasionally. She rubbed his back soothingly as she shushed him gently and bounced from foot to foot. I couldn’t help but notice that she looked tired. They had run us ragged the last week and the fear that she wasn’t being totally honest with me regarding another baby nagged at me. 

Henry calmed down after I had changed him and handed him to Hope. She nursed him, or attempted to, while I changed Peyton's diaper. It was as if the boys had switched personalities: Peyton was calm, gentle and obedient while Henry was rowdy, rough and obstinate. He flipped in her arms as she tried to settle him as gently as she could. The next thing I knew, Hope cried out, pulling our son away from her chest in disbelief.

“He bit me,” She said, and I could see she was trying to maintain her demeanor. Henry arched his back and screamed again in what sounded like frustration. Her eyes watered, from pain and irritation. Even in the semi-dark of the room I could see her jaw clench. 

“Here, you take P down and get him in his high chair, I'll see what I can do here.” I said, and I could see relief in her eyes. Once he was in my arms, Henry was calm again. He looked at me innocently, his big green eyes filled to the brim with tears.

“What's up, buddy?” His bottom lip trembled and he rubbed his eyes with a chubby fist, sighing heavily.

“No, Mama,” He said softly. It was times like those I struggled to understand my son. He was trying to communicate, the best he knew how but didn't have the words to say what he needed or what was bothering him. I sighed and kissed his forehead.

“Do you want down?” I asked and he shook his head. “Do you want to eat?” I tried again. Toddlers could be the most baffling, frustrating people on the planet, but I was sure they felt the same way about adults.

“Awfuls,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “No mama.” I laughed loudly but tried my best to cover it up as I made my way downstairs with him.

“Okay, that's fine, we can have that but you don't bite,” I scolded. “That hurts. It makes owies, and owies suck.” Henry grinned from ear to ear.

“Owie suck!” He said rapturously, the second we stepped foot into the dining room. I cringed when Hope shot me a look.

“Great, Kell,” She said as she rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen. I put Henry the Terror in his high chair next to Peyton and followed close behind her. I knew she was irritated at feeling helpless with our son and it was even worse after he bit her when she was doing what she could to help. 

“Well, what's up with him?” She asked, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter.

“His exact words were 'awfuls no mama' which I translated into 'Mother, if you would be so kind, I would like waffles for breakfast and not the milk that my Mother so lovingly offered me.' Hence, the bite.”

“What a little shit,” Hope mumbled. I didn't try to hide my smile then.

“He is your son,” I offered, smiling wanly. My jab at her made the corner of her mouth twitch with a smile but she turned her back to me.

“He gets it from your side of the family,” she replied dryly as she busied herself preparing breakfast.

Breakfast passed without further incident and I was optimistic that the day would be smooth from there. Hunger made everyone cranky, it made sense that our frustrated little boy would lash out when the food he was offered was sub-par. Maybe Hope’s misgivings about a baby would cease, if she had any at all, after a normal day with our children. Unfortunately, my wish for a normal day wasn’t granted. Not even close. 

From the minute the boys were cleaned up from breakfast, they were screaming, hitting, even biting. By nap time, both of them had bruises in the shape of the other's teeth imprinted on their sensitive skin. Hope was at her wits end, and honestly, I was too. My head was pounding from the constant cacophony two toddlers created. Naptime came after what felt like days. Hope shot me a grateful look when I picked Peyton up and told him it was time for bed. He rested his head on my shoulder, much to my surprise. It was enough to make me wonder if somehow we had mixed the two of them up although I knew that we hadn't.

Hope followed close behind me, Henry crying in her arms the whole way. Peyton, on the other hand, had fallen asleep on my shoulder and I lay him in bed. He barely stirred. I watched Hope sit in the rocking chair to rock Henry, but he wasn't having any of it. Hope looked exhausted, her jaw clenched tight and I could see her breathing deep to keep her cool. After all our years together, I could tell she had reached the end of her rope. Just as I opened my mouth to offer to help, Henry flailed, his hand connecting hard with Hope's face.

Wordlessly, she rose and handed our son to me and walked out of the room. She attempted to hide her face from me, but as she passed, I saw tears streaming down her face, an angry red mark from the slap rose on her skin. In my arms, Henry's cries had changed from screams to a thin fussing so I sat with him in the rocking chair and hummed softly, hoping the movement and the melody would calm him. Less than five minutes later, his cries had ceased and he relaxed as his breathing deepened as sleep took him.

I rocked him for longer than I needed to, relishing in his weight on my chest, the way his hair smelled sweet and the little twitches he made while he slept. I was nervous to find Hope. I felt as if the fears I worried that she had were not only accurate, but that her own concerns had come to a head after the rough time we’d been having lately. It was an understatement to say that toddlers were assholes sometimes, but the good far outweighed the bad, at least to me. 

What would I really say, do or feel if Hope said no more kids? Obviously, my desire to carry and deliver a child was enough to leave me feeling empty. I couldn’t even describe the feeling of need I had. Of course, Peyton and Henry were everything I thought they would be and more. They were the best thing Hope and I had ever done. There was no point in putting it off any longer. I sighed and rose to my feet. 

Carefully, I lay Henry in his crib and set out to find Hope. Hard days with the boys were few and far between. Of course, daily, they would throw tantrums and push buttons but it was very rare for either of them to consistently be ornery and downright mean. It amazed me that two tiny people could make two adults feel so completely discouraged and lost.

My heart sunk when I found Hope sitting on the edge of our unmade bed with her face in her hands. She was the type of person who wore her heart on her sleeve, but did her best to hide that fact from everyone. Eventually, she let people see that side of her, the real her. But for every picture of Hope greeting her hecklers with a smile, each time she brushed off comments about her marriage to Jerramy, her photo leak, her arrest record, she carried scars. Not physical ones, but ones that made her second guess herself at the core. Was she really a good person? Did she deserve the success she had, the love she had found and the kids she had? These were questions that plagued her. Those nights, I would stay with her and let her cry and vent. She needed to get the poison out. 

I sat next to her and rubbed her back, unsure of what to say, if I should say anything at all. Her shoulders shook occasionally, but her tears were silent. Eventually, she lifted her face and met my eyes.

“I can't,” Hope said simply. She sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. 

“You can't what, honey?” I asked quietly. She looked away from me. My heart sunk. This was it, I could feel it. 

“We can't have more babies.” Her usually cheerful voice was low. My instinct was to pull away from her and I didn't fight it. Disbelief ate at my stomach, and anger wasn't far behind.

“You can't just change your mind like that,” I spat, and it surprised me how quickly the anger had taken over any other emotion.

“I know. I'm sorry,” Hope sniffed again and stood, walking out of the room, leaving me on the edge of our bed, hurt, confused and livid.


	4. London

I was stunned into immobility. I couldn’t move from the bed, my mind a whirlwind of emotion and thought. It absolutely wasn’t okay with me that Hope had changed her mind so suddenly and with such finality. I wondered if it was the terrible timing of my biological clock or if my wife honestly didn’t want any more children.

Heat rose from my core and I clenched my fists by my side and instead of fighting my anger, I went with it. It fueled me, bringing me to my feet. I ran out of the room and down the stairs, catching Hope by surprise in the living room. Her face was still wet with tears she hadn’t wiped away but I didn’t feel sorry for her. Yes, it had been a rough day but that didn’t give her the go ahead to rip the carpet from underneath my feet. She must have seen the look in my eyes because she stepped back away from me.

“You don’t get to walk away like that,” I hissed through clenched teeth. She opened her mouth to speak but I put my hand up to stop her. “You had plenty of time to tell me that you weren’t ready for this or that you didn’t want this. You can’t just say nevermind now! Toddlers are assholes, especially ours today but goddamit, Hope, you’re not being fair.” I all but stomped my foot on the floor. My tantrums were legendary but I hadn’t had a good one in years. She was quiet, yet, her fierce eyes met mine and she held my gaze.

“Well, one of us should be the voice of reason,” she said cooly and I felt my face flush with anger.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I retorted.

“It means that we jumped into this. We didn’t really talk about the reality of what having a third baby would mean.” Hope’s voice was calm and level, which fueled the fire even further. I felt as if she was talking down to me, as though I was her child and not her wife.

“I suggest you start talking, then.” I folded my arms over my chest. She sighed.

“You really think we should add another kid to this mess? We can’t control the two we already have! Now you want to throw a pregnancy on top of it, then a tiny baby. What if you get kicked in the stomach and something goes wrong? What if the new baby got hurt by the boys? They don’t know their strength and they certainly don’t give a shit when they hurt someone!” She motioned to her face, and I rolled my eyes.

“Even if they were the best kids in the world, we couldn’t control them! They’re PEOPLE. What if aliens abduct me and I wind up the queen of Mars? Stop playing the what-if game, you’re only using it as an excuse.” I glared at her, seething, more angry than I had been in a long time.

“We haven’t talked about the cost of having another child. Two kids in college is going to be hard enough, but three? There are expenses we can’t even begin to imagine, and that’s not even considering that we’re not guaranteed a healthy baby. These are important things to think about, Kelley!” Hope retorted.

“Now you’re just moving goalposts! What it comes down to is I want a baby. You don’t. There’s gotta be a compromise,” I tried hard to keep the desperation out of my voice.

“You can’t compromise on a baby,” she said with finality before she turned and walked away. I didn’t follow her.

* * *

The weekend arrived not long after, providing me with a much needed distraction. I had done my best not to mope around the house, but things remained tense between Hope and myself. We didn’t say much to each other from day to day and it became normal for me to go to bed and wake up without her. She was at the very least sleeping in the same bed as I was, yet the ever present invisible wall between us grew each night. I wasn’t happy with how easy we seemed to transition into ignoring each other; I didn’t know how to bridge the gap and reach out to her. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to give in to her demands any more than she was willing to give into mine.

We loaded the boys into the car, strapping them safely in their seats even though they both wiggled and arched, trying to avoid the belts that held them. Peyton screamed shrilly and yelled at me while I fumbled with the buckles.

“No!” He shrieked as I buckled the harness between his pudgy legs.

“You have to wear your seat belt in the car, bubs,” I reasoned, keeping my voice low.

Finally, they were secure and I climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and throwing the SUV into reverse. I avoided Hope’s eyes, even though she obviously tried to catch mine.  
I wasn’t willing to start the conversation she wanted to have on the drive to a psuedo-reunion between some of the other 15ers. It was quickly thrown together by Megan, of course, our resident social butterfly, and I was looking forward to seeing my old friends. Plenty of people were going to be there; Kling, Tobin, Abby, Ali, Ashlyn and Morgan, to name a few. Ashlyn had just given birth two months previous, and I was anxious to meet their new little girl. The last thing I wanted was to either be seething or crying during the party.

The moment we arrived, Hope scooped Peyton up and headed into Pinoe’s place and I followed closely behind with Henry on my hip. Once he realized where we were, he perked up, rubbing the sleep from the short nap he had in the car from his eyes.

“Dow’, dow’!” He commanded, kicking his feet and I obliged, watching as he ran into Pinoe’s waiting arms, where Peyton had already found refuge. Pinoe covered them with kisses and the three of them giggled. I couldn’t help but smile. Something about Pinoe drew kids to her; and she loved it.

“C’mon, tiny humans, I have something to show you!” Pinoe said, standing and taking both of my son’s hands. “I’m gonna take them back to the sitter,” she said over her shoulder and I nodded, still smiling. The smile faded, though, as I scoped the room.  
Hope was nowhere to be found and I wondered where she had wandered off to when I was pulled into a strong hug by Ali.

“Oh my god, look at you,” she almost yelled, holding me at arms length. “Why do you look so damn good? You have two kids! I have the one and I feel like I’m going to die of sleep deprivation.” She laughed and I rolled my eyes. If anything, Ali looked even better than she normally did.

“Well you look amazing,” I said, “The first year is probably the hardest, sleep wise.” I added, hoping my words would help her pull through.

“You know, I honestly don’t mind, she’s so amazing.” Ali responded quietly, leaning toward me. Her eyes rested on Ashlyn, who sat talking to Tobin, holding a tiny bundle in her arms. My heart ached immediately, the desire for my own tiny bundle hitting me harder than it had all day. “You should come meet her.” Ali’s eyes sparkled with pride and excitement. As much as I wanted to shy away from meeting their daughter to save myself even more heartache, I couldn’t. It would hurt Ali and Ashlyn and more than anything, I wanted to snuggle that sweet little girl.  
Before I knew it, Ashlyn squeezed me into a one arm hug while her daughter rested snugly in her other arm, sleepy and safe. Without hesitation, she moved her baby into my arms and smiled at her. The love and pride overflowed as Ali and Ashlyn watched their daughter stir in my arms and settle back down.

“This is London,” Ali said softly while she stroked the baby’s head. She had fine blonde hair that almost made her look bald, her eyelashes almost translucent as they rested on her chubby cheeks.

“Kyle was very offended that we didn’t name her Kylie, after him, and reminds us that we can always change her name.” Ashlyn chuckled. “Such an asshole,” she added.

“Little ears,” Ali cautioned her wife and shot her a look.

“She’s two goddamn months old, she’s not going to remember,” Ashlyn scoffed and I giggled, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from their daughter. Without even realizing it, London and gripped my finger and I was in love.

“You guys are going to be lucky if you get her back from me,” I cooed.

“Just wait until she starts crying, she’s got a voice like you wouldn’t believe. You’ll give her back.” Ali assured me.  
“Are you and Hope going to have any more?” Ashlyn asked curiously. I glanced at her for a moment and shrugged noncommittally.

“I want to but Hope doesn’t,” I replied. Ali and Ashlyn exchanged an uncomfortable glance as I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Hope’s arm slid around my shoulder, the first intimate contact we had in days.

“I don’t know, Kell,” Hope said softly. “You look really good with that baby in your arms. Maybe I was just overthinking.” Her eyes rested on the baby in my arms and she smiled gently. “I forgot how tiny they are. Can I hold her?” She asked reverently. I passed the bundle to her easily. London grunted and mewed until she was settled in Hope’s arms, where she lay still again after sighing heavily.

“I wish she would sleep like this at night,” Ashlyn said dryly and Ali snorted.

“Dream on, Harris.” The group fell silent, watching Hope and London. I realized at the same time as Ali and Ashlyn that my wife was crying softly. They excused themselves, leaving me alone with Hope and their daughter.

“Do you really want this, Kell?” Hope asked. Her eyes met mine and she bit her lip. I nodded.

“I do, more than I even realized.” She sniffed and stroked London’s cheek.

“Me, too. I’m sorry, Kelley. Really. I was overthinking and scared...when Henry hit me all I could think about was my brother hitting me, even though we were so close, it was scary. I don’t want that for our kids. I want them to have as much normal shit as possible. I don’t want to break them.” Her voice cracked.

“Everyone is damaged, Hope. We can only do the best we can and pray it all turns out in the end. You did. So did I. Ash did, hell, everyone we know has their own tragedies.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why I was actually afraid. It’s still hard for me to talk about that stuff. But I want this.”

“Me, too.”

“So, we’re going to have a baby?” She asked. I nodded, a grin spread across my face.

“We’re going to have a baby,” I assured.


	5. Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again about the really long wait. I hope you enjoy!

It was very easy to say the words ‘we’re going to have a baby.’ In theory, it seemed simple but the reality was much more difficult. Getting pregnant was a complex mix of luck, timing and biology. If anyone knew that fact, Hope and I did. 

A week after Hope’s change of heart, I had started bleeding. In that respect, the timing part of trying for a baby seemed to be working in our favor. Hope jumped in head first, insisting that I take my temperature every morning and chart it so we could try and pin down my ovulation time, that I take prenatal vitamins and, later in the cycle, that I use ovulation predictor tests to make sure everything came together well. It was exactly what we had done when we were trying for the boys, so it wasn’t new to me. Being on the other side, though, actually preparing my body for pregnancy instead of observing, was daunting. Hope’s expertise helped put me at ease. 

Butterflies tickled my stomach every time I thought about what it would be like to see a positive pregnancy test, to feel the baby move inside me, to hold him or her for the first time. It was hard for me to focus on anything for any extended period of time the closer it got to what should be my ovulation date. 

“Don’t worry too much, babe,” Hope had said one day. “People have been having babies since the dawn of time.” She kissed my temple before she had left for her jog. Still, I couldn’t help but worry that somehow my body was different. 

Pinoe, on the other hand, had no worries at all. She had been texting me almost every day, asking for status updates and suggesting names. Of course, the first suggestion was Megan. 

“Cool people have that name,” she had written. “I mean, there’s Meghan Klingenberg, Megan Rapinoe...they’re both like insanely smart, athletic, sexy people, what more could you want for a kid? Just leave the H out, there’s no reason for that shit.” I rolled my eyes but chuckled, handing the phone to Hope so she could read the text. Before I could stop her, she had the phone to her ear, calling our teammate.

“Megan Rapinoe,” Hope scolded, her voice firm. “You know how long it can take to get pregnant, you’re not helping her stay calm.” Pinoe’s voice cut through the phone but I couldn’t make out the words. Hope grinned widely. 

“If you don’t stop harassing her, I’m gonna name the baby Rachael,” she teased, but her voice sounded serious.

“You wouldn’t dare!” I heard Pinoe’s voice crackle through the phone. I erupted in giggles, Hope joining in as she hung up on the blonde. 

“You’re welcome,” she said as she handed my phone back to me and kissed my cheek. “Sorry, I just remember stuff like that getting under my skin before the boys,” Hope shrugged. 

“It’s cool, but you know, you’re just as bad with the temperature charting and the tests,” I chided gently, elbowing her enough to let her know I was teasing. She narrowed her eyes at me, but smiled nonetheless. 

“The only thing I have to say about that is you better get used to peeing on sticks. Just promise me you won’t go crazy with the pregnancy tests like I did. Squinting to try and see a second line is maddening.” I nodded, remembering that after Hope had read you can get a positive test as early as seven days post ovulation, she would test at least twice a day. Holding tests under lights or going outside to see if she could see anything in the natural light. Going crazy if she saw a hint of a line, a shadow, editing pictures over and over trying to pull the line that was never there. Only to start bleeding right on time, month after month, over and over again.

“I’ll tell you what,” I bargained, knowing that I would test early because of my need to plan everything down to the day, “I’ll only test once a day. And I’ll throw them away when they’re negative.” Hope chuckled.

“Deal, but no pulling them out to double check.” I laughed and kissed her nose.

“I think I can manage that.” 

* * *

A few days later, the little sticks that told me I should be ovulating within thirty-six hours turned positive. VERY positive. I ran to Hope, waiving my stick at her. I was oddly proud that my body was working correctly, even though I knew it had for years. The fear that something was wrong with me nagged, a doubt that almost crippled me at night when the house was asleep. I had known my fair share of otherwise healthy people who were infertile. Ali was one of them. Hope was somehow able to overcome her unspecified issues. What if, like Ali, I couldn’t overcome mine, assuming I had them. Seeing the ovulation test’s positive line really quelled my irrational fears. Any number of other things could go wrong, but so far, I had no reason to believe anything was misfiring. 

“Well, I guess I should text Evan. You wanna call Pinoe and see when she can take the boys?” Hope asked. Pinoe and Sera had readily agreed to babysit whenever they could while we were trying, so we weren’t interrupted. 

“How true is it that it works better if you’re...aroused?” Sera had asked, leaning forward in her seat. 

“Actually very true,” Hope responded, with a small smile on her face. “It helps the little guys swim.” She added. 

“So, like...what do you do? Watch some adult movies? Talk dirty? Screw?” Pinoe chimed in, taking a sip from her beer. I felt myself blush and Hope’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Personal preference,” she said. Pinoe raised her eyebrow.

“What’s your personal preference, Solo?” She asked. The alcohol had obviously loosened the blonde’s filter more than usual.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hope responded with as much sass as she could muster.

“Whatever it is, we’ll watch the boys,” Sera cut in and shot Pinoe a look. Pinoe snorted into her drink and shrugged.

“Don't look at me like that, you wanted to know, too.” She retorted. Sera rolled her eyes, ignoring her wife. 

“Deal,” Hope agreed. I pulled my shirt up to the bridge of my nose, praying that my bright red face was hidden. Because I knew Hope’s preference, and it was my own, too. 

I dialed Pinoe’s number and started to pack the bags for Henry and Peyton. “Let’s do this.” I said, and Hope grinned in response.

* * *

I paced the floor of our bedroom nervously. Hope was waiting downstairs for Evan to arrive, and each second seemed like an eternity. I did my best to breathe, to relax, since stress and tension definitely wouldn’t help the process go smoother. Still, when Hope opened the door to the bedroom, I jumped.

“It’s just me,” she said, holding the small brown lunch bag in her hand up for me to see. “I’ve got what we need.” She set it on the side table next to the bed and sauntered toward me. “Now, you’ve gotta do your part.” Her warm hands snaked up my shirt as she pulled me in for a kiss before she gracefully pushed me onto the bed. My heartbeat slammed loudly in my ears, a combination of excitement over finally taking the steps to expand our family, and the delicious feel of Hope’s lips on my skin. 

A record fifteen minutes later, I lay on my back with a pillow under my hips and my legs against the wall. Hope was resting in the crook of my arm, her head on my chest. We were silent, but comfortable. 

As my heart rate slowed to a more normal rate, I wondered if in nine months time, I’d be holding my new baby. It had never really been a possibility before, me becoming pregnant. It almost sounded like a joke in my head. I had known I wanted to have a child, sure, but the actual process had never crossed my mind, not in the sense that I could be pregnant. Could I be forming a human in less than a day?

“Do you feel different?” Hope asked softly. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well...I feel hopeful but scared. I also feel like I need a shower. A long one.” I scrunched my face. I definitely wasn’t used to the feeling. Hope laughed loudly.

“I know! Squishy. Blech!” She giggled. “Here’s to a long shower.” She kissed the my forehead and helped me to my feet. I felt my face go white.

“Oh god,” I said, not daring to look down at my legs. Hope snorted and tried to cover her laughter. “Oh my god!” I ran quickly to the bathroom and jumped into the shower, my wife followed closely behind, still snickering.

“You didn’t think about gravity?” She called into the shower. I peeked out long enough to flip her off. 

“I changed my mind!” I said, taking the shower head off the wall to rinse my thighs. “I’m never doing this again!” As Hope laughed outside the shower, I prayed that I wouldn’t need to repeat the scenario in the following months. I also decided that I loathed gravity.


	6. The Waiting Game

I had read in a book before Hope got pregnant that my life would be split into two week intervals: waiting to ovulate, and waiting to test. I had scoffed, thinking there was no way that would happen to Hope but then it did. I promised myself that I wouldn’t fall into the same trap but by the seventh day after the insemination, I was going nuts. 

Every new twinge, every new craving, sleeping too much or not enough...it was all a possible symptom to me. It was driving me crazy. The boys offered a great distraction during the day while we played and did our day to day, as did the fitness program I was in with my personal trainer but early morning or late nights, my mind would race with possibilities. Both good and bad, but they were equally anxiety-inducing. How long would the process take? What if it never happened? What if it did and our ‘one last baby’ became two more, or three or eight? I called my mom to ask her if multiples ran in the family and she had said no and asked why.

“No reason,” I lied, “Hope had said something about how they didn’t run in hers and I was just curious.” I don’t think she believed me for a second but I stuck to my story. 

My game face was strong, even with my anxiety about whether or not I would get pregnant and have a litter of little italian/irish babies or if I would be more barren than a desert in August. There was no in between in my head, it was one or the other.

Although I had promised Hope that I wouldn’t test a lot, I did. Privately, I squinted as hard as I could to see those two lines that would change my life. Wrapped in cellophane in the drawer next to the other tests were the very expensive, easy to read ‘pregnant/not pregnant’ ones. As much as I wanted to unwrap those bastards and pee on them, I held off. ‘Those are only for when you’re late,’ I reminded myself. 

Every morning I would wake up and pee on a stick and nothing. Those two elusive lines were already driving me crazy and it was my first month. Really, we knew that it could take eighteen months for perfectly healthy people to get pregnant, and I was perfectly healthy, as far as we knew. Getting pregnant the first month went against the odds. I reminded myself of that daily. But, I asked myself, isn’t getting pregnant always against the odds? Why not the first month? It was a never ending battle. It was driving me mad. 

Day ten arrived bright and early, my heart leaping into my throat when I thought about testing. I threw it hard into the trash when it was negative, angry at the stupid piece of plastic for not showing me what I wanted to see. Tears stung my eyes momentarily before I bit my tongue, threw my shoulders back and refused to be upset anymore. No more testing, no more obsessing. I had adorable two kids and a gorgeous wife who didn’t need me to be sullen and withdrawn for god knew how long until I got knocked up. 

I threw myself into my family, dragging them with me to Pike Place, to Seattle Center, to a Sounders match and to the beach, where the boys sat and played in the sand in their sun hats and baby swim suits, eating sand while Hope and I built a sand castle. The day ended abruptly when Henry tried to eat the sunscreen and threw a fit when I took it away. Two minutes after we loaded the boys and the dogs in the car, they all passed out, barely waking when we changed their diapers, put them into their pajamas and tucked them into bed. 

When we made it to our room that night, we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. Gentle kisses turned fervent, want turned to need and hours of white-hot sex passed before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I felt peaceful, happy and fulfilled. 

I pulled Hope’s body into my arms, holding her close to my chest, my favorite inside spoon before sleep took me.

* * *

Mega blocks surrounded me as I sat on the floor playing with Henry and Peyton. Peyton had told me he wanted to build “Biiiig tower, mama!” and I was happy to oblige. Hope had gone out to the store when we started to build, and watched us all when she came back, leaning against the archway with a smile on her face. 

“Mama! ‘Ook, biiiig tower!” Peyton exclaimed when he saw her, stretching his arms wide and jumping, as if to display just how big the tower was. 

“That IS a big tower, bubs! Who made it?” She feigned ignorance as she walked toward the jumbled mess of colors we had happily assembled. 

“Umm..” He said. “Mama, an’ ‘Enwy,” Peyton finished. Hope nodded and squatted down to his level.

“Did you help?” She asked and the little boy smiled and nodded. 

“Uh-huh, me help. Biiig tower!” He said again before he turned his attention back to building. I chuckled and smiled up at Hope.

“Hey you,” she settled next to me. “I’ve been meaning to ask...but I don’t want to pry. Have you tested yet?” Her voice was low and her eyes were on the boys. 

“Not in a few days,” I said dryly. “Why?” 

“Aren’t you late?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at me. My heart rate jumped instantly and I calculated the days in my head. 

“Oh my god,” I gasped. It had been seventeen days since we had tried. I was three days late. I jumped to my feet and ran up the stairs, into our bedroom and then into the bathroom. My hands shook as I reached for the cellophane wrapped box. “99% Accurate!” It boasted, but I didn’t bother to read more as I tore the box open with my teeth. I didn’t even have to pee, but I found a way to manage before I capped it and set it on the counter. 

Hope appeared not long after, watching me pace in front of the counter, not daring to even glance at the plastic stick I had learned to hate, but that held information that could gut me or change my life. 

“You didn’t remember?” Hope asked, obviously shocked. 

“I stopped keeping track, I was losing my mind!” I almost wailed, shaking my hands as if my nervousness would leave me that way.

“How late are you?” She asked cautiously. I could tell she was trying not to hope, since she had been let down so many times before. 

“Three days,” I mumbled. Part of me questioned how I could possibly manage to parent if I couldn’t even keep track of my own period before I remembered I was already a parent. That’s how nervous I was. “I can’t look,” I told her. Panic cut my voice like a razor. 

Closing the gap between us, Hope pulled me into an embrace. I buried my face into her hair, thankful for her presence. 

“Will you look, please?” I asked. My voice was small and honestly, the thought of telling Hope it was negative, only to see her face fall broke my heart. Hope pulled away from our hug and placed her hand on my face. 

“I will. But no matter what it says, we’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. We can keep trying if it’s not positive, okay?” I nodded, but I didn’t feel like it would be okay. She kissed me gently and smiled. “Ready?” I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Hope’s back to me, she examined the test on the counter before she picked it up and turned around. Her face was impossible to read, her world famous game face always frustrated me but I wanted to shake her. It wasn’t the time for that! 

“What does it say?” I asked, dancing from foot to foot. 

“Oh Kelley,” She said, her face finally giving it away. “You know what it says.”

She turned the test window toward me. There was no need to squint or guess. Pregnant.


	7. My Best Friend, The Toilet (and other adventures)

My excitement over the positive test was short lived when less than a week later, I was endlessly nauseated, complete with vomiting, which left me shaky, sweaty, hungry and exhausted. At first, Hope was confident that we would be able to get it under control. 

“There are tricks, I’ll teach you some,” She had said as she rubbed my back while I leaned over the toilet.

And she did. I started taking my prenatal vitamins at night, I kept crackers and water on the bedside table so I could eat before I ever got out of bed. I tried gingerale, these stupid lollipops that had ginger and stuff in them, made specifically to battle morning sickness. They did absolutely nothing other than make my vomit candy flavored. 

When I wasn’t tossing my cookies, I was sleeping. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go to bed at eight in the evening, only to wake up at noon the following day, long enough to pee, throw up, try and eat, and crawl back into bed until three or four, repeating the same steps. At the very least, my misery was consistent. 

Hope had never had these issues. As far as I knew, Cap, Ashlyn, A-Rod, Syd and Cheney hadn’t either. Before getting pregnant, I thought morning sickness was like car sickness; it sucked but you could power through it as long as you were getting enough rest and fluids. I didn’t expect it to feel like the room was spinning in lopsided circles on a one hundred fifteen degree day. 

‘Lucky me,’ I thought dryly one day when I was catching my breath after another episode of sickness. ‘I get pregnant easily but I get sicker than a flea infested plague victim.’ I patted the toilet tank as I stood. My new best friend. 

“Good game,” I said sarcastically. “Until next time.” I shut the door firmly. 

I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, willing the world to stop spinning so I could eat something. Anything. In the week past, I had lost five pounds which was significant on someone with my body type. I felt so weak, lifting my head felt like an insurmountable task. Hope was downstairs with the boys, I could hear them playing and guilt wrapped itself around me like a wet blanket. Hope had other things she wanted to be doing. She had taken personal time off work but it was a stressful time there. With no end in sight to my debilitating sickness, something had to give. 

Next thing I knew, Hope was shaking me awake gently. I groaned and batted her hands away but she persisted. 

“Kell, I hired and acupuncturist to see if they could help with the morning sickness,” She said softly. Gingerly, I pushed myself up onto my elbows and glared at her.

“Let me get this straight. I’m sick as hell because I’m pregnant, I can’t eat, I can’t drink, and the toilet and I are going to announce our engagement any day. You thought, hey! I know! LET’S PUT NEEDLES INTO HER THAT’LL HELP!” I raised my voice and regretted it when the room swooped and my head pounded. Why hadn’t she consulted me about acupuncture? I had done it in the past for muscle aches but for a pregnancy related condition, it didn’t seem prudent. The only way I was going to stop being sick was either time or not being pregnant anymore. And the only way I wanted to not be pregnant anymore was in about nine months time. 

“Desperate times,” she replied dryly. “Just give it a shot.”

So I did. And it didn’t help. It was time consuming, and I couldn’t help but think I could’ve slept instead of having needles jabbed into my skin. 

* * *

Relief. I examined the IV tube that ran from the bag and into my arm, wondering exactly how it worked. It must have been magic. I felt refreshed, alive and best of all, not nauseated. I had almost forgotten what that had felt like. 

When I couldn’t manage to pull myself off the bathroom floor, Hope had called my doctor who had instructed her to get me to the hospital as fast as she could. Severe dehydration and early onset malnutrition. That’s what the doctors diagnosed me with. They had quickly given me a shot in my arm so I could stop dry heaving and hooked me up to an IV. Soon, I was given ice chips, then water, then juice and finally pudding before I was given high calorie nutrition shakes. I kept it all down. 

The best part of the hospital trip, though, was the nurse who came in with a small device I immediately recognized as a doppler. They were going to try and find the baby’s heartbeat. 

“It’s still early enough that we might not hear it,” the nurse cautioned. She was an older woman, heavier, with a short bob cut which looked nice with her dark hair and streaks of grey. She had nice eyes, and I felt comfortable around her. She looked like a mother. 

“Do you have kids?” I asked as I lifted my gown, showing my still toned but noticeably smaller stomach. 

“I do, I have five,” she smiled at my mouth dropped open.

“FIVE?” I practically screeched at her, and Hope put her hand on my shoulder as if to keep me from rising off the bed. “And I thought we were crazy. We have twins. Almost eighteen months, now. And this one coming, too.” The nurse chuckled and shook her head.

“I did the same thing. Are they boys, girls or a mix?” She asked. I knew she was making conversation to help me relax as she searched around with her doppler for the sound of my tiny, tiny baby’s heartbeat.

“Two boys,” Hope answered. I could hear the pride in her voice and smiled up at her. “Peyton and Henry.” She added.

“Those are lovely names. Do you have any picked out for this one?” She asked. I was starting to get concerned about the time it was taking to find the heartbeat. What if there wasn’t one? I would be broken. I remembered talking to Ali on the phone after she had her third miscarriage and the devastation in her voice still made my eyes sting with tears. 

“I’m just focused on not throwing up on anyone,” I replied. Hope snickered but her laugh was cut short when the quick staccato of a tiny heartbeat filled the room. 

“There it is!” The nurse said, proudly. “One hundred fifty six beats per minute. Very strong.” She moved to pull the doppler away when I stopped her.

“Please,” I said, my voice thick. “I want to listen for another minute.” She was happy to oblige. Hope slid her hand into mine and squeezed it. 

“That’s our baby,” she said softly. I didn’t even try to stop the tear that slid down my face.

 

* * *

“No, I can handle it!” I protested, only causing my wife to scowl at me.

“Kelley, be reasonable, we need the help. I’m not saying you can’t do it, I’m saying being pregnant is hard. I need to go back to work, the boys are getting older and they won’t need a nap during the day soon. But you will.” Hope asserted. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her jaw clenched. I was laying on an uncomfortable exam table, waiting to get my first ultrasound when Hope thought it was a great time to bring up hiring a nanny. I glowered at her.

“Reasonable is not something I can do when you want to invite a stranger into the house to watch the kids just because I’m pregnant!” I hissed. She sighed heavily, all but rolling her eyes. 

“It’s not a stranger, first of all, I have a handful of referrals from Steph and some other friends. At least five people to interview. Second of all, it’s not just because you’re pregnant, it’s because you’re having a rough time. It doesn’t have to be forever, at least until you’re feeling better. Please, Kelley, I’m not trying to insult you, I’m trying to help.” I softened. Hope obviously knew more about being pregnant than I did; she knew I would be tired, and near the end, probably unable to chase the boys around the house. 

“Maybe,” I conceded. “We’ll talk about it later.” Silence rested between us until the doctor entered the room and the excitement at the prospect of seeing the little blob that would be our next child pulled us together again. Hope held my hand tightly. 

“Wow,” I whispered when the doctor turned the screen toward me. I remembered how much they looked like aliens at this point from the boys but it was a whole new ball game when I was looking at something growing inside of me. I felt high as the doctor pointed out the fetal pole and the heart, the head. 

“Everything looks good.” I loved those three words. The doctor handed us printouts of the very first images of our baby and handed them to me. It was starting to be so real. Our baby. 

Thank god it wasn’t twins.


	8. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small update with more to come. My gigantic apologies for how long it's taken to update. I had some serious writers block and health issues that kept me away. It won't be another year before I update again! Pinky promise!

My relief that I wasn’t having twins or more was short lived, as Hope continued to press the issue of hiring a nanny. My nausea was under control thanks to medication and I was putting on weight a week after being discharged from the hospital. On the stainless-steel fridge, the ultrasound pictures were stuck proudly next to some candid shots of the boys, Hope and myself. 

“C’mon Kell, at least meet some of these people. They could really make a difference,” Hope said as she placed a bright orange plastic plate stacked with cut up fruit and waffles in front of Peyton for his breakfast. 

“Fine,” I sighed. “But I get final veto power. Since I’ll have to be here with them, I want to be able to stand them.” I set an identical plate in front of Henry.

“Fank you, mommy” Henry said sweetly. I smiled. 

“You’re welcome, sweet baby,” I said back.

“Me no baby,” he insisted, “I biiiiiig kid!” he spread his arms wide to show just how big he was and I laughed.

“You’re right, you are a big kid. Better eat your breakfast so you can get even bigger!” My smile spread wider across my face as I watched my son pick up a blueberry, examine it and eat it. 

“I big! I big!” Peyton exclaimed, bouncing in his seat before he shoved a few pieces of his toaster waffle in his mouth. Hope laughed and sat down at the table with her own waffles, fruit and coffee.

“You are big, Pey. Do you know that soon, you’ll be a big brother?” I shot her a quizzical look. I was still in the first trimester of my pregnancy and I was nervous that I could very well have a miscarriage. 

“Brudder?” He asked. “Henwy brudder.” He said, matter of factly. 

“Yep, Henry is your brother, but mama Kelley is going to have a baby,” Hope said, taking a bite of her breakfast.

“Baby baby baby,” Henry babbled before he threw his head back to take a swig of his milk out of his sippy cup.

“In tummy?” Peyton added to his brother’s statement, his eyes were wide as he stared at me. They had seen many a pregnant woman and could identify a baby bump better than any toddlers I had met. It was uncanny, really. It impressed me how quickly they had grasped the concept of pregnancy, as abstract as it was at their very young age. I nodded.

“Yes, the baby is in my tummy. But the baby is very very small and it will be a looooong time before it gets here,” I cautioned. Peyton looked sad for a minute before his face lit up.

“Eat, mommy!” He declared. “Make baby big!” He pushed his plate toward me, offering his food up.

“Oh honey,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. What a sweet gesture for him to make. Peyton loved to eat and tended to be aggressive if anyone tried to eat off of his plate. “I have my own food, see? I’ll eat plenty for the baby so it can grow big and strong like you and Henry. You eat your breakfast, love. Thank you for offering.” I slid his plate back over to him. He continued to eat happily, occasionally babbling to Henry, oblivious to the tears on my face. Hope rubbed my back.

“You okay?” She asked quietly. I nodded. The hormones of my pregnancy coupled with the boys’ sweet personalities had touched me more deeply than I could have guessed. Maybe having another baby wasn’t so crazy after all.


End file.
